


A Heart full of Love

by fanetjuh



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Les Misérables Fusion, F/M, but a somehow happy end, jaime as jean valjean, loads of sadness and angst, myrcella as cosette, robb as marius
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 10:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17140295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanetjuh/pseuds/fanetjuh
Summary: Myrcella and Robb feel like their lives have just begun when they met, but Robb has promised to join his comrades and friends on a barricade in Paris to fight for the poor and forgotten. And now Myrcella can't do anything but pray at home for him to come back to her, while Robb fights for his life in a revolution he can't win.*Inspired by Marius and Cosette from Les Miserables*





	A Heart full of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Game of Thrones Secret Santa

Myrcella sat on her knees in front of a small altar in a niche in their living room. She pressed the letter she had gotten that morning firmly to her chest and she prayed. Over and over she prayed. She prayed for him to survive. She prayed for him to not get hurt too badly. She prayed for him to return to her.

She didn’t know if there was a God listening to her.

Her father had always assured her that there was. Once her father had been a thief and a liar, but then God had saved him and granted him mercy and since then he was living his life as a better man.

Sometimes, he said, meeting the right person at the right moment could change your life. For him that had been Brienne.

For her that had been Robb.

She had always thought that love at first sight was for fools, that something like that didn’t exist, that it was impossible to fall in love with someone you didn’t know. But when her eyes had met his and when his hand had touched hers she had known. 

It had been the glimmer of red in his golden curls. It had been his bright blue eyes, more beautiful than the prettiest sapphires she had ever seen. It had been the countless of wrinkles when he smiled, proving that he smiled often and happily. 

He was everything she had imagined her prince charming to be. 

And the best part of all?

A few days later he had all of a sudden appeared in their garden. He had climbed over the high walls surrounding their house. He had reached for her hands and had stuttered his introductions in front of her. And then they had talked all evening, looking over their shoulders to make certain no one was watching them.

After all, she was an honorable young lady. She was not supposed to hang out with a handsome young man without a chaperonne keep an eye on them at all times.

And yet, not one second of their meeting had felt sinful. 

Every moment of their rendez-vous had felt simply perfect. As if the sun and stars and moon had aligned. As if Christmas and her birthday were all of a sudden at the same day. As if the entire world had stopped turning because it would never get better than this.

Would she still have enjoyed those moments just as much if she had known that he would start a revolution with the rest of the Parisian students next day? Would she still have declared her love for him if she had known that he would risk his life for a castle on a cloud? Would she still have opened her heart to him if she had known that maybe she would never see him again?

Yes, she would have. She would have enjoyed it more. She would have repeated how much she loved him at least a million times. She would have let the tips of her fingers trace the shape of his face, so she could remember him for always and for ever.

And maybe, she simply would have refused to let him go.

 

He could barely see anything because of the smoke. He had gone deaf after all the gunshots around him and at him. His once so neat suit was now dirty and shredded, barely protecting his body against the constant rain of bullets on his head.

When they had spoken about the revolution, in the small cafe where they had planned their fight, it had all sounded much more beautiful than it truly was. They had believed to become heroes. They had thought to make themselves important. They had seen themselves as legends, changing the lives of millions of people living in poverty, begging for a piece of bread every morning and a bed to sleep in every cold and freezing night.

But war wasn’t beautiful, or heroic, or legendary. And considering the amount of bodies and the smell surrounding him, they would not change anything. They would only lose everything. Their friends, their dignity and their endless fate that one day life will be better for everyone and not just for the rich and entitled.

He screamed when a bullet pierced his shoulder. He kept on walking, but he had no idea where he was going or what he was doing. Once in a while he yelled something, not knowing whom he was yelling at. And sometimes he fired, knowing that the soldier he aimed at would be replaced by another one and another one. 

There were moments he wanted to fall down and stop breathing. There were moments he wanted to spread his arms and lift his chin, begging whatever God was listening to forgive him and to welcome him in Heaven. There were moments he wanted to give in to the smoke making it almost impossible to breath.

But whenever he was about to give up and lose hope he closed his eyes and saw her face. He saw her smile, brighter than the sun in the time of spring. He saw her eyes, staring at him as if he was a prince and only existed to save her from a miserable and lonely life. He saw her golden hair, surrounding her face like a halo, making her the angel she truly was.

And then he kept going. He kept shooting. He kept trying. He kept screaming. He kept running. He kept walking. He kept crawling.

The chance to make it home, the chance to ever see her again was small. It was why he had written her a letter, one last letter, in case he wouldn’t return to her, in case he would never hold her and never kiss her again. But no matter how small the chance was, he wanted to hold onto it. As long as he was still breathing. As long as his heart was still beating. As long as he was alive.

He could still make it.

He fell down on his knees on the dirty pavement, covered in blood and dirt, when a bullet pierced his calf. He fell down flat on his face on the black cobbles when another bullet splintered all the bones in his hand.

“Myrcella…” He whispered her name. “Myrcella!” He screamed her name. “Myrcella!” He wanted her name to be his very last word in this life. “Myrcella…”

The noise around him numbed. And then there was nothing but darkness.

 

“Papa!” Myrcella pushed herself up. Her knees were soar and her legs could barely carry her after kneeling down on the cold tiles all this time. But she ignored the pain and rushed towards her father. 

Jaime’s blond hair was covered in dirt and blood. He had scratches, bruises and bleeding wounds all over his face and body. He was fighting for every breath and barely breathing, but in his arms he held the unconscious body of the man who had constantly been in her thoughts today. 

Myrcella pushed the door of the spare bedroom open and as soon as her father had placed Robb’s barely living body on the bed she rushed to the bathroom to get cloths and warm water.

Robb’s pulse was weak and the wounds in his shoulder, hand and leg were still bleeding, but carefully and with her tongue between her lips Myrcella started cleaning them before she stitched him up. 

Every half an hour she changed the cold cloth on his forehead for a new one. Every two hours she changed all bindings. Every four hours she placed her hand on his chest to make sure his heart was still beating. 

And after forty-five very long hours he finally opened his eyes. “Am I dead?” He lifted his hand up and touched her cheek. “Is this heaven?” He spoke softly, but Myrcella smiled and shook her head.

She curled her fingers around his wrist and she leaned into his touch to enjoy it to the absolute fullest. Every second of the last three days she had feared she would lose him.

But here he was. Breathing. Joking. Alive.

“You’re not in heaven, Robb.” Myrcella kissed his wrist. “You're not dead either.” She closed her eyes. “You're here, with me, and I’ll never let you go again.”

Robb kept silent. He just stared at her. He stared at her as if he didn’t believe her, as if he couldn’t believe she wasn’t just an illusion, a dream, a creation of his own brain, soaring in the darkness of death.

“My father rescued you.” Myrcella continued talking, hoping that if she could keep on talking she could convince him that she was here, that she was holding him and that they could be together now. “He used the drains to get you here. He carried you. He carried you all the way to me.”

Her father had slept for over twenty hours. He had barely eaten. Every hour he had walked into the spare bedroom to check on his daughter, to ask her how Robb was doing.

Myrcella smiled when she saw her father’s curious and fearful eyes once more. “He's awake.” She whispered. “He'll make it. He’ll live. Thanks to you.” She didn’t let Robb’s hand go, but she looked up at her father and she locked her glance with his. “I’ll never be able to repay you, but I owe you my life, father.”

Jaime smiled and he placed a hand on his daughter’s head. “My biggest reward will be your happiness.”

 

Robb didn’t quite know how to feel. As the days passed by he recovered. The wounds in his hand, shoulder and leg healed. The bruises and scars all over his body healed. But his heart was conflicted.

His heart was of love and joy. And there was nothing as pleasant as their strolls through the flower garden. There was nothing as cleansing as hearing Myrcella talk to him, about the life they would lead, about the dreams they’d make true, about the future waiting for them once the small failed revolution was nothing but a memory.

But his heart was also full of an emptiness that could never be filled again. His friends and comrades, who had all given their lives for the cause they had seen as worth dying for, had all left a hole behind. 

Sometimes he could still hear them. He heard their voices, speaking about a future that was now gone and forgotten. Sometimes he could still see them. Smiles on their faces and a fiery passion burning in their eyes.

He was saved, rescued, carried away from the fight in the arms of his father in law.

They were not. Some of them weren’t even missed, not by anyone but Robb Stark.

Maybe one day he’d write about their bravery, about their honor, about their last hours together on that barricade. The world deserved to know their stories, and his friends deserved for their stories to be told.

“Robb…” His name was nothing but a whisper, a whisper in the back of his mind, in his imagination. “Be happy. Live. Live for all of us.”

He stared at the pretty girl next to him on the stone bench. She was surrounded by roses and sunflowers, all gleaming and blooming as if nothing had happened. She held his hand, no matter if he didn’t say anything for quite some while. No matter if silent tears rolled down his cheeks. No matter if he’d never be the same careless and hopeful boy she had once fallen in love with.

“Myrcella?” He reached for her other hand too and even though it hurt he knelt down in front of her. His knee touched the sandy ground. He was not carrying a ring or a bouquet of flowers. But somehow he hoped that simply offering himself would be enough. “Will you share the rest of your life with me? Will you love me, through better and worse, in sickness and health, in good and bad times? Will you take me as I am, with a heart full of a love, but surrounded by empty chairs and empty tables?” He paused for a short moment. “Will you be my wife and marry me?”

Myrcella smiled and she stood up, allowing him to lean on her so he could do the same. “Yes!” She balanced on the tips of her toes and pressed a soft and tender kiss on his slightly parted lips. “A thousand times yes. A million times yes.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and despite his wounds he lifted her up and twirled her around.

He’d gotten a second chance. And he’d grab it firmly with both hands. It wouldn’t be easy, but he’d find a way to live happily ever after. And the only way to live that happily ever after was with her. 


End file.
